


Bad Blood

by lactoria



Category: Homestuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 06:25:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1215976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lactoria/pseuds/lactoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blood.</p><p>There’s no deeper essence.  It’s visceral and crucial.  It’s a defining factor in a corrupt society.</p><p>It represents life, the giving and taking of it.</p><p>Your post-scratch self spilled his in the name of revolution.</p><p>Your dancestor hides his for fear of his well-being.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Blood

_I don’t want to hear about the bad blood anymore._

_I don’t want to hear you talk about it anymore._

Blood.

There’s no deeper essence.  It’s visceral and crucial.  It’s a defining factor in a corrupt society.

It represents life, the giving and taking of it.

Your post-scratch self spilled his in the name of revolution.

Your dancestor hides his for fear of his well-being.

You sit alone in your commiserating, gazing down at your wrists; what must the Sufferer’s look like?  It’s ironic that your symbol was drawn up from the irons, born from suffering.

But no, it’s not *your* symbol.  No, Kankri, you are not responsible for true change.  You have not suffered a day in your life; you have not shed a drop of blood for the sake of equality.

You are not a lovable leader like Karkat; you are much too reserved to go out on a limb.

You do not stretch yourself to the limit, you do not test yourself, and you do not take risks.

When you’re honest with yourself, you have no right to raise your head so loftily high and call yourself the heart of your team.

You embrace the title of The Insufferable as if it’s a compliment.

But you embrace it because you  _deserve it_.

Your pumper beats for no one but yourself, and your words only coddle your insecurity.

You’re a no-nothing-know-it-all who has the gall to think he can stand in the shadow of a real Messiah.  But really, you are overshadowed.

If you were under the pressure Karkat was under, you’d crack.

If you walked in the SIgnless’ leggings for even a day you’d crumble.

You talk too much to fill the void that leaves you feeling as empty as death.  Unlike Karkat, you were virtually useless in your session, and the afterlife hasn’t been much kinder.

But you just won’t let the blood dry.

If it dries then there will no longer be a need for you.

For you to rebel, for you to be angry, for you to have a reason  _for reason._

Because without some kind of reason—real of contrived—what good are you?

If you possessed even a fraction of the qualities that make your dancestors great, you might just be worth listening to.

But instead you draw their symbol on your wrists and wish you had the nerve to carve with blood instead of ink.


End file.
